


Mean Grinch and Linnet Bird (How the Worst PumpkinSpice Scones Stole Christmas)

by executrix



Category: Sweeney Todd - Sondheim/Wheeler
Genre: Gen, coffee shop AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-16
Updated: 2014-12-16
Packaged: 2018-03-01 19:41:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2785364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/executrix/pseuds/executrix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tobias recounts his brief tenure at the Charred Butts coffee shop</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mean Grinch and Linnet Bird (How the Worst PumpkinSpice Scones Stole Christmas)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [skyfyre](https://archiveofourown.org/users/skyfyre/gifts).



It was the Avengers poster that caught my eye. It was, you know, the guys all lined up. It said “Shawarma: You Need It!” It was in the window of this new coffee place, and when you looked through the window, it was like you’d expect. Pretty women, silhouetted. Sipping coffee. A counter, with a giant espresso machine. A glass case of sandwiches and cookies and stuff. Only also there was a spit turning around with, like, gyros. But it turned out they didn’t put them on pita bread, but on a bun, on top of a doily. Which was funny for a coffee place, but, really, why not? 

They had the kind of sign that hangs on a chain in the front. It was a picture of a cigarette standing up, kind of like a hard-on, y’know? Symbolic. But tasteful, not like it had smoke coming out the tip or anything. And it was a really tired, beat-up cigarette, which probably was also symbolic, for Modern Life or whatevs. And underneath it said “Charred Butts,” but looking burned up, and in a classy font. Not Comic Sans or anything.

I asked them if they were hiring. They weren’t really, but they had some primo Kona-style beans and I showed them how I grind them three times. For smoothness. And I told them that coffee is key. Coffee is not basic. I mean, look at Cuba. Not only do they call little cups of coffee Cuban Bullets, but they call their dictator the Barista. 

“My friend! My faithful friend!” the old dude said. Pale, odd eyes. Smiled a lot, but didn’t laugh. He’s kind of big, so I guess that’s why they call him Teeny. “You shall cold-brew rubies!” 

So that’s what I brought to the mix. Knowledge. And enthusiasm. It was great to live my passion, y’know? Also, I helped them with their iPod playlist, which, as you’ll notice when you go into a coffee place, is like the dentist. Big on oldies. It was mostly Christmas music, but we’d have Beatles next week, I was told. 

Plus the shawarma, it turned out, they also had a whole fish thing going on. Like kippered herring that had swum in the Straits of Bering. Super good. But the baked goods…not so much. Really not the treat pies used to be. The cinnamon buns were dried out, when you’d think they would be special. One of the owners was this cougar-age gal, working a Princess Leia thing with her hair even though she was much too old for it. You could break a tooth on the Rain Forest Nuts biscotti. The scones were crumbly, and the nutmeg note was overpowering.

After I’d been there for a few days, I started to share other constructive suggestions with Ms. L. Like, the brick wall is classic, sure. But theirs was painted black. Not even blackboard paint. And movie posters, check. But how about something a little more cheerful than Soylent Green and Snowpiercer? Don’t you think some daisies, pretty flowers, might relieve the gloom? And why not put another espresso machine and a cake rack on the mezzanine, so those above can serve those down below? Business needs a lift! Debts to be erased! 

“Toby!” she said. “See to the customers!” 

Charred Butts is near the courthouse, so it was pretty busy. Lots of lawyers came in, always put their cards with their deets in a brandy snifter on the counter. I went through and pulled out the dupes, because no one should Follow them twice. But it didn’t matter how many lawyers there were, the Boss kept looking around. He said the one he was waiting for never came in.

There was free wi-fi, of course, so there were lots of people working. The screenwriters, now, they’d type a whole bunch of stuff, you could see they were making progress. But the trouble with poets, is how do you know it’s increased?

This one girl was practically a regular. Real old, maybe even 40, but she looked like even if she wasn’t a MILF right now, she used to be hot. And she’d look at the boss, and say “Don’t I know you?” but he never even looked at her. And she’d write stuff down on her laptop. I shoulder-surfed her this one time, and it said “Smoke, smoke, city on fire” over and over again. Like, in The Shining. I love old movies.

But when the Environmental Protection guys showed up? You know, in the bunny suits? And also a guy in a really great suit who said he was a trademark lawyer? I thought there was going to be trouble. 

When everybody looked all over, including down in the cellar, we ran to the back door, which was wide open. We could see a car pulling away. The Big Guy and Ms. L were in the back seat, and a guy in a really great suit was driving. There was another guy in the front, cute but kind of scruffy looking. Then the car sped up, and all you could see was the bumper sticker (“Meat is murder!”) I don’t know where they went, but I swear, sometimes I think I see him again, beside me. Like, there! Or there! There!

One of the Environmental Protection guys shut the door. We all kind of piled into the office, and it got pretty crowded in there. Then it got crowded-er, because I was sitting on this old trunk, but then I could hear three knocks, so I got up and opened it, and there was a girl inside, wearing a really cute sailor suit.

There were pieces of paper all over the office, with letters on them. The bunny suits guys gave the lawyer some gloves to put on, and he moved the letters all around. Like he was looking for clues, if the papers were that thing, what do you call it--a hannigram.  
The girl had something to do with the Boss, I don’t know what exactly, so what with him disappearing she didn’t have anyplace to go, so I said she could crash on my couch. We have our whole lives for her to explain it to me. Johanna’s a vegan, so I guess now I am too. Which is kind of a downer, but she’s a great girl. 

So how much does that suck, losing my job right before the holidays? That’s why I’m filing this online application for Unemployment. And whoever you are that’s reading this, I hope you have, y’know, the Christmas Spirit and approve it, if I can teach you to be more, like, adaptive. 

Sure, I wasn’t working there for very long, but that’s totally not my fault. And my previous employer—who had a personal grooming direct marketing operation—also disappeared, but even if that’s a pattern, it’s not my fault either. And I’m going to look for another job really soon. I’m confident there’s lots of stuff I can do. I may not be smart, but I ain’t dumb. Life has been kind to me. I will learn. And, in conclusion, put me to it! Show me something I can overcome!


End file.
